


Don't Think Twice

by findingthewords



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen (Web Series), Chef RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, Friends to Lovers, POV Claire, RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24056668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/findingthewords/pseuds/findingthewords
Summary: When Claire moves to New York after scoring a job at a well-established bakery, the last thing she expected was to live next to someone that was as much of a whirlwind of energy as Brad Leone was.Neighbor AU.
Relationships: Brad Leone/Claire Saffitz
Comments: 11
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> That feel when you're going stir crazy in quarantine, mainline all of the BA episodes, and end up needing to write something.
> 
> This is looking to be ~4 chapters, with 3 already written, so I hope you enjoy this moment of distraction as much as I've liked writing it so far.
> 
> As per usual, leave the real folks alone, this is just for fun and not real. Obviously.

What sold Claire on the place, more than anything else, was the kitchen.

Going into the process of apartment viewing, she kept her expectations as low as could be. Something small and compact with barely any space to move around in? Fine, if there was someplace to sleep and to make food and was affordable. It was a checklist she had been sure would lead to no disappointments, except it _did_. It did long enough for despair to start to slowly sink in – where she began to doubt she’d _ever_ find someplace that would work – when the right place abruptly opened up not far from her new job.

The size had been what she expected (small, _very_ small, because rent in New York City as a single person who had no interest in roommates was insane, even with a decent salary). What she wasn’t ready for was to be shown a kitchen that had been recently renovated, the shiny stainless-steel counters and new oven and fridge, all included, ready for someone who knew how to properly appreciate them. Having these particular bells and whistles she had seen no other place she’d seen have bumped the price of the rent up slightly above her maximum limit she put on herself, but she took the hit without a second thought and immediately moved around her budget to fit it in.

It would be okay. She would _make_ it work, she always did.

The actual process of getting settled in a new place was as stressful as it ever was. She had liked to think she was used to it by then – she’d lived overseas for a while, even, and that had been a headache and a half – but it seemed like each move found new and exciting ways to spike her anxiety. _This_ move it was solely the delivery company’s fault, as they had apparently decided they just didn’t feel like delivering on time.

“What do you mean you’re not coming today?” Claire demanded as she walked up the last flight of stairs and started down the hallway, shifting the weight of the heavy box she was carrying to try to ease her tired arms so she could focus on the call. She could barely believe what she was hearing.

“I’m very sorry miss, but there’s been a delay,” the man on the line explained, at least _pretending_ to be contrite about it. “If we could set up a time tomorrow morning…”

“But I’m here _today_ ,” she cut in, icily. She knew it wasn’t the guy’s fault – he probably only did appointments – but she had timed things _specifically_ so that she wouldn’t be bereft without the new furniture she ordered, bed included. It hadn’t just been about having to sleep in an empty apartment, it meant she also was losing an entire afternoon and night to get unpacked. She only had a few days before work started and she needed things to be in some semblance of order.

“We understand this is an inconvenience,” the man continued, in a placating tone. “We’re going to be waiving the expedited fee you paid as an apology for this issue.”

Claire scoffed loudly. “That’s the _least_ you can do!”

Distantly, she knew it was not like getting angry was helping anything. She took a deep breath to reel herself in after the outburst, rounding back to be a little more reasonable. After a few more minutes, she had a new exceedingly early delivery time and a bill that was discounted even more. It had to be enough.

“Damn it,” she huffed to herself once she hung up. Agitated, she dropped the box she was carrying carefully on the floor and reached up to rub at her face, tears pricking in the corner of her eyes. She usually dealt with setbacks well, but her nerves were already frazzled by an unhealthy lack of sleep and the stress of making sure everything was together.

“Sure sound like you told them,” a voice suddenly quipped, making her practically jump out of her skin when she realized her mini-breakdown had an _audience_.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, whirling around with a startled look. Standing not far from her was an absolute giant of a man. Scruffy in a way that almost looked purposeful and somehow still exceedingly handsome, he was staring at her with piercing blue eyes, his head cocked a bit to the side. He held his hands up immediately to show – something. Surrender, maybe?

“Woah, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he apologized, obviously noticing her tension. He pointed a thumb behind him. “I just heard you yelling at someone when I was coming up the stairs.”

Had she been that bad? She winced, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. What a way to make a first impression. “Was it that loud? Sorry, didn’t mean to make so much noise.”

He waved off the apology with an amused smile that brightened his entire face. “Not a complaint, just an explanation. Promise I wasn’t listening too closely. You uh, you all right, though?”

“I’m fine, I just -“ she began, then hesitated, realizing she was about to dump her problems on a complete stranger. The thing was, he just kept standing there patiently, looking fully invested in whatever she had to say, and she believed he might _actually_ care. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, she looked away. “I timed everything so things would come when I showed up today and now everything’s been pushed back a day and I’m stuck with a new apartment with no furniture until tomorrow. Which _isn’t_ a big deal, I know it isn’t, but still -“

“Hey, it’s inconvenient and it sucks, I get it,” he sympathized with a nod of his head, understanding. “So you’re the new tenant, huh? Heard someone new was moving in.”

Claire could spot him giving her a once over without bothering to hide it clearly sizing her up. The attention was a little much and she cleared her throat, busying herself with finding the keys in her purse as she replied, “Uh, yeah, that’s me. Sorry, you heard about me from where, exactly?”

She could see, out of the corner of her eye, his smile shift at the question to something a little more mischievous. “Gonna have to get used to the gossips in this building. I trade free grocery shopping for secrets with the elderly sisters downstairs. They were telling me a nice girl was moving into the apartment next to mine.”

If she hadn’t already been blushing a little at the entire situation right now, she definitely was now. “ _Oh_. Well, I guess I made a good impression?”

“They’re a good judge of character,” he agreed, solemnly, then drew closer, holding out his hand. “Brad Leone, I live in 203, next door over.”

Claire stared at the hand for a moment before reaching out and taking it. She was distantly aware how tiny her hand felt in his, much like how him being closer only made their height difference more pronounced. If it were any _other_ stranger, she would’ve been a little intimidated. Something about Brad was already different and she’d only known him all of five minutes. “Claire Saffitz. It’s…nice to meet you, Brad.”

“Don’t sound too surprised, Saffitz,” he teased with an actual wink, dropping her hand and taking a step back. She hadn’t meant for that pause to be there – if she was being honest, it was purely because she was so taken aback by _anyone_ being so friendly, not just him – and despite being sure he was taking it in stride, she felt the gnawing feeling of anxiety strike her.

“Oh, I didn’t – I’m sorry, that probably came out wrong –“

“Hey, no, I’m just messin’ with ya,” he reassured, eyebrows furrowing when she suddenly started falling over herself to explain. He nodded his head down at the currently abandoned box of her things. “You need help carrying that in?”

“Oh! No, it’s – I’m fine,” she replied, already bending down to scoop it up (incorrectly, of course, which her back did _not_ appreciate). He was watching her strangely and, feeling like she still was not quite getting it right, she took a deep breath. It centered her and she managed a grateful, if shy, smile. “Thanks for helping me calm down, Brad-from-203.”

It was a lame joke even by her standards, but the laugh it got out of him was seemingly genuine. It made her feel warm inside to hear it, though she couldn’t even begin to fathom why making this stranger even chuckle felt like such an accomplishment.

* * *

Much later that night, as she went through the few boxes she had opted to bring over herself because she certainly had nothing better to do, the sound of someone knocking on her door disrupted the silence. Unsure who could be visiting her, she checked the peep hole and found someone with a pizza box standing there, waiting for her to open. Having not actually ordered food, she opened the door only a little, not unhooking the chain lock from the door just yet.

“Oh, I think you have the wrong apartment,” she said through the sliver of open doorway. The guy seemed unfazed.

“201, right?” he confirmed, and she nodded her head. “You don’t have to take it, but it’s for this apartment.”

Claire stared at the box a moment more before undoing her chain and opening the door wider, taking the box that the guy held out toward her. She still didn’t think it was the right place, but she also wasn’t going to waste his time if he was sure 201 was what was printed. “Er, thanks – wait, give me a sec to grab a tip?”

Mistake or not, he had delivered the food, so it felt a little like an obligation.

After that was taken care of, she turned her attention to the box, heading over to look what was inside of it. The medium pizza was just a plain pie, no toppings, but it also looked really good – the type you could only get at an authentic, homegrown type of place in the city. Her stomach growled at the sight of it. When had she eaten last? It was probably more than half a day if she didn’t count the steady stream of coffee that had been helping her keep moving.

It still didn’t sit right with her, though. Maybe it was for 203? Brad seemed like a pizza kind of guy. Checking the receipt stuck to the box, it definitely said 201, with the last four digits of a credit card she didn’t recognize and no name listed in the ‘guest’ section. Blowing out a sigh, she pulled her messy hair up into a bun, then slid the box towards her to pick it up. She would just… _check_. Make sure.

She just had to hope he didn’t mind his new neighbor knocking on his door at nine at night. Brad seemed like a contender for the most easy going guy she’d ever met, but that was basing it off of one interaction. For all she knew, he was just in a good mood earlier and might _not_ be now. It was a thought that made her linger a little too long in front of his door and it was only the realization that he could step out at any moment and see her standing there that finally spurred her to knock.

And then she waited.

And waited some more.

He never came to the door. Whether he was out or asleep, she had no idea, but she didn’t keep knocking in case it was the latter. Feeling she had done her due diligence at that point, she brought the pizza back in and gave into her protesting stomach, taking out two decent-sized pieces and sitting down with it. It was still warm when she took her first bite and it certainly would not be her last one that night.

It was one of the best pieces of pizza she’d ever eaten.

* * *

“Alright, just…I want that in this main area, okay? Right there,” she said, motioning and then stepping completely aside into the hallway to give them room to maneuver the couch into her small apartment.

Claire was hovering, she knew she was, but she had paid good money for this service and she was going to make absolute sure everything they were placing was where it was supposed to be. The couch they were starting to squeeze into her doorframe would take some work, and she watched tiredly as they started to make a game plan on how they were going to tackle the task. She sipped her iced coffee as she watched, doing her best to both stay out of the way but also oversee things.

“Fancy couch.”

The effect of someone suddenly talking behind her was exactly the same as the morning before - she startled, glancing over her shoulder to see her neighbor looming there. How the hell was he so quiet that she didn’t even notice he’d come out?

“Brad! Jeez,” she huffed, nearly smacking him on the arm and barely resisting the urge. It was far too familiar a gesture for someone she barely knew. Not that it stopped _him_ from hovering too close behind her, watching the movers over her shoulder with a surprisingly critical eye.

“Hey, you gotta twist it a little to the left, there, bub.”

The mover he was speaking to glanced over at them and ultimately seemed to decide to heed his advice. Sure enough, it started to slowly budge in when he made the adjustment. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding - she'd been getting concerned.

“Good eye,” she admitted, spinning around to face him. She still didn’t smack him, but she did point an accusing finger at him. “But you really need to stop sneaking up on people.”

He tilted his head, as if considering the request. There was no attempt to put some needed space between the two of them either. He was close enough she could smell what she thought was either cologne or soap, for goodness sake.

“Sneaking? I just came over to say hello, Claire. Like the good neighbor,” he insisted, though she saw the hints of a smile he was badly hiding. “ _Great_ neighbor, in fact.”

“Sure,” she replied, non-committal, eying him. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but I think you were just being nosy.”

He mimicked a stab to the heart, making a show of being offended. Yeah, she knew he was full of it then. She also could not stop the chuckle that escaped her anyway, as much as she valiantly tried to hide it. He was charming, too charming, the sort of charming she knew was trouble.

“Can’t it be a little of A and B?”

“As long as you admit it,” she hummed, turning around again to get back to watching the movers. They had almost squeezed it through, thanks to Brad’s advice. It was easier to focus on them than on him. He, of course, wasted very little time stepping closer so he was beside her instead, arms crossing against his broad chest.

“Fine, ya caught me,” he shrugged, smiling at her in a warm way that made her stomach do unintended flips. It was all she could do was duck her head and sip at her coffee, giving herself a moment to shake it off.

“Um, anyway,” she spoke up, once she felt like she wouldn’t sound flustered. “Did you order a pizza last night? Because one showed up for my apartment and I didn’t order it.”

He lifted an amused brow. “You ate the pizza you thought was mine?”

That wasn’t _fair_. Despite knowing full well she’d tried to make things right, the second he asked, she started to worry she’d made the wrong choice anyway.

“I tried knocking on your door but you didn’t answer! There was an _effort_ ,” she insisted, making a face. “Wasting it wouldn’t have accomplished anything after that.”

“Fair enough. Good stuff, at least?”

He hadn’t answered her question. At all. Claire wasn’t sure why she expected he would, but he also wasn’t actually annoyed, at least. That was the best she was probably going to get from him. It did give her the opportunity to ask a question she’d had on her mind since the night before, at least. “Oh, god, yes. One of the best I’ve ever had. Is there a good place around here?”

It’d all been generic. She checked. Generic box, generic receipt – it was crazy to her the place wasn’t blasting their name everywhere when they were selling pizza like that.

“Just the one I work at,” he replied, in the most cavalier sort of tone possible. She turned her head sharply to look at him. He looked positively smug. “Glad you liked it. I made it myself.”

Claire just kept staring at him, her brain having to take a second to process the casual drop of information. She wasn’t even sure where to start. It came out in a rushed stutter as she asked, “Wait, you made – you sent me -?“

“Ma’am, can you come in here for a second?”

Claire barely registered she was being waved over. She looked between mover and then Brad. Motioning with her hand as she started to head toward the mover, she called back – in perhaps a bit of a pitched tone - “Stay there, I’ll be right back.”

The questions the movers had were important, and she found herself appreciative of the shift in her focus. The random act of kindness had honestly left her feeling off kilter and being able to direct the workers for a little while centered her a bit. Honestly, she didn’t even think Brad would listen to her barked order to stick around – he wasn’t obligated to stay and explain himself, after all – but she did pop her head out to check at the earliest moment she could, just in case.

Brad hadn’t _exactly_ listened, as it turned out. He was definitely there, leaning against the opposite wall idly, but he was holding some kind of unlabeled liquid in what looked like a mason jar of some sort. He looked up when she started heading over there, gaze catching hers as he took a long sip.

“And she returns,” he announced, lifting a brow. “Alright that I got a drinky drink? I mean, it happened already, but I figured I could apologize for not staying here the entire time after the fact if it was a problem.”

She waved his apology off immediately. There were more pressing matters at the moment. “You sent me a pizza. You _made_ me one.”

“That’s right.”

As if it were completely normal to be _that_ friendly to a neighbor. The last person she lived across from had spoken maybe three words to her the entire time she was there. Crossing her arms against her chest, she couldn’t quite keep the suspicion out of her voice.

“ _Why_?”

Did he want something from her?

He just looked – it was a mix of confusion and honest exasperation, it seemed like. Maybe amusement, too? “I’m getting a little concerned here, Saffitz. You come from someplace that banned apartment warming gifts? Should I have just gotten you a plant instead?”

That wasn’t – he was missing the _point_. Or maybe she was. _Say thank you_ , her brain pleaded with her, because she was grilling someone right now who had been nothing but kind to her in ways that felt real. Being guarded was one thing, but Brad was making no indication he was doing anything but be _neighborly_ , as he called it.

She took a deep breath. Hit the proverbial reset.

“Sorry, no, you’re right,” she conceded, softly.

“About the plant thing?” he asked, obviously being willfully ignorant.

“What? No, I –“

“So about the ban, then,” he continued, now very overtly teasing.

“ _Brad_ ,” she huffed, exasperated, and the laughs that burst out of both of them, short but bright, happened nearly simultaneously. She felt herself relax for the first time around him, really relax. He seemed to finally be ready to let her talk, so she added, sincerely. “Thank you. Consider me properly welcomed.”

He lit up at that, pleased to finally have gotten the response he’d probably been wanting for. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Neighbors gotta stick together, yeah?”

From anyone else, something like that would’ve sounded like the sort of thing you only said but didn’t mean. Nothing about his demeanor indicated that, however and she found herself (perhaps foolishly) believing he really and truly was exactly as he was presenting himself – affable in a bizarrely appealing way. An honest-to-god decent person.

Claire ducked her head a little, feeling shy all of a sudden. “Yeah, of course. _Obviously_.”

And _she_ meant it, too, for whatever that was worth. For once, she let herself accept things at face value and decided to be grateful she was living next to someone she could see herself get along with. It would only make her transition to living in New York easier, right?

(She had leftover pizza that night, her thoughts still lingering on the random act of kindness. The food was just as good as it had been the night before.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's inevitable, really, that they started to become friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: this is only going to be a few chapters...  
> also me: does not actually know how to truncate things
> 
> so uh, I guess we'll see together how long this is, eh? Thank you for the kudos and kind comments in the first chapter, I'm glad to see this silly thing gained even a bit of traction.

Claire's first day at her new job was two days later. She threw herself into the work like she threw herself into anything she did, fully prepared to prove she had earned the position to bake at one of the best bakeries in the city, if not the entire country. She’d worked so hard for such an opportunity and she certainly wasn’t about to squander the opportunity.

Every workday she went in early and didn’t usually get in until six or even later. The fact her schedule was one she imagined did not mesh well with someone who was apparently working at a pizza place was a stray thought she felt herself lingering on after three days of noticeably not bumping into her boisterous neighbor. Logically, she knew it was something she knew shouldn’t bother her and certainly nothing to get hung up about. Things had simply settled into how it usually was in every place she’d ever lived in and that ought to be enough.

And yet -

She considered, a few times, the idea of just heading over and knocking. It felt too forward every time the inclination hit, however - they were just neighbors, not _friends_. Neighbors – at least the one she usually was and the ones she’s used to – don’t just show up to say _hello_. Even if she did, what else did she expect would happen? The whole idea seemed like it was doomed to be awkward _at best_ , so she staunchly put him out of her mind.

With how busy her life became, it was depressingly not even _that_ difficult to shove him into the recesses of her mind. She came home every night ready to crash and she wanted nothing more to do than get into her pajamas and watch mindless trash TV. She knew she would get used to the schedule eventually, but for now she was exhausted in the way that left her functionally useless outside of the singular focus of keeping her head above water at work.

To say Claire was looking forward to her first day off was an understatement. She made absolutely no plans besides _maybe_ doing a grocery run much later in the day, whenever her body decided to rouse her. What she assumed would be a sleep-in morning was very abruptly and rudely interrupted by noise coming from the other side of the wall. It took her a half-asleep second to realize she could hear music playing that was vaguely familiar, but she was too groggy to even begin to guess why. All she knew for sure was it was definitely coming from Brad’s apartment and it was still the morning and she had at least been banking on sleeping until _noon_. When the noise didn’t stop after a minute or two more of her staring at the ceiling, her irritation finally spurred her enough to go do something about it.

Nice guy or not, he was being _rude_.

If she hadn’t been out of it and more than a little sleep deprived still, she might have reconsidered the idea of showing up at his doorstep in her flannel pajama pants and loose Harvard shirt from her university days, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. She didn’t even think twice about banging on his door, loud enough that she was sure he had to hear it over the noise he was making. It took a solid minute, but the door eventually flung open and she found herself staring up at a familiar face. He was sans hat for the first time since meeting him, his brown, scruffy hair unkempt.

“Claire,” he exhaled, looking surprised she was standing there. She saw his gaze flick along her appearance, clearly taking her in. “Uh, is something going on?”

She didn’t have the patience to not be blunt. “It’s – I don’t even know what time it is, but you’re blasting music so loud you woke me up!”

From behind him, she could hear the music still going – Springsteen, no wonder she recognized it, even in her half-asleep haze. His good taste in music didn’t absolve him, however, and he thankfully seemed to think better than mess with her at the moment. Looking appropriately admonished, he was quick to respond.

“Shit, Claire, I’m sorry,” he said in a rush, then motioned for her to wait. “Here, hold on.”

He was gone in an instant, leaving her to stare into the doorway. She wiped at her face sleepily as she could hear the volume drop to silence. He returned before she even could _think_ to be nosy, still looking as apologetic as he had been a few moments ago.

“Not gonna happen again, alright?” he promised, running a hand through his curls. “My bad for assuming you leave pretty early. You can go back to sleep, you won’t hear another peep from me. Scout’s honor.”

He crossed his heart for good measure, which she couldn’t help but be a little charmed at. Now more alert, the edge of annoyance was softening to something a little more forgiving. “It’s probably too late to go back to sleep anyway but thank you.”

“...So you really did just roll out of bed, get up, and come over yell at me, didn't you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and glanced away, a little embarrassed. All at once, she realized what a sight she must be right then. “Maybe?”

“Maybe, _Right_ , okay, here - in _that_ case, let me make up for the rude awakening then, at least? Breakfast?” he suggested, then paused, looking at his watch. “Well, _brunch_. Was ‘bout to make myself some chow, either way. More than enough for two, Claire.”

Of all the ways Brad could have responded to her yelling at him, inviting her in to _eat_ was perhaps the last thing she would’ve guessed. As always, he seemed exceedingly earnest in the offer, and Claire felt her face flush at being put on the spot suddenly. The very responsible part of her brain immediately rebelled at the idea of saying yes to spending her precious free time with someone she barely knew, a someone who had just woken her up from her equally precious sleep. It was overridden by something she so very rarely followed – her curiosity.

She wanted to know more about him. It was pointless to deny it. In her moment of deciding, however, Brad had apparently decided her silence was an answer.

“Or you can get going, if you’re busy,” he replied, uncharacteristically awkward and seeming to purposely give her an out. “Just thought you might want a quick bite.”

Seeing Brad unsure was…somehow reassuring. The giant of a man exuded the kind of personality that made Claire feel a little like he was unshakeable. Having that proven wrong, even for a second, gave her a bigger boost of confidence than anything else could have done.

“Not like I am right now,” she decided, awkwardly playing with the hem of her flimsy shirt. “I’ll be back in fifteen?”

A smile crept back onto his face, the expression tinged with relief. “'Course, 'course. Take all the time you want.”

She spent ten minutes freshening up – putting on actual clothes, fixing her hair- and five minutes questioning every single one of her life choices. There’d been a moment she considered making some stupid excuse to skip it entirely, but she worried he had already begun to make food for two. Guilt was, as it turned out, the ultimate motivator to not chicken out.

Two minutes after she said she’d show up, she was knocking on his door again. At the very least, she felt more presentable than before, which helped more than she thought it would. From inside, she heard him call out ‘ _it’s open_!’. She tried the knob and sure enough, it was unlocked. It felt weird inviting herself in, but she did it anyway.

Claire hadn’t exactly known what to expect. No, that was a lie – she was ready for the place to be messily ordered, just basing it off his general countenance. She wasn’t exactly wrong, but her eyes zeroed in on what looked like a table to eat at and the…set-up of jugs she was staring at.

“Uh,” she uttered, surveying what was in front of her.

“Don’t mind the table,” he said, casually. “Usually clean it all up before company but this all kinda dropped onto me.”

“What is all this…exactly?”

Did she want to know? Was it safe for her to know?

“I was starting new batches of the ‘buch today,” he explained and when had to see the odd look she was still giving him, he clarified, “Kambucha. You ever have it fresh? I’m kinda obsessed with making it now.”

Now that she thought about it, he _had_ been drinking a mason jar full of something that looked like one of the liquids that morning she saw him when she was working with the movers, hadn’t he? She had wondered what it was, but she never imagined he was making the stuff in a way that practically looked like a science experiment. She felt him keep glancing her way as she drew closer to take a better look. More than anything else, it had absolutely piqued her interest.

“What’s the thick stuff on top?” she asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“SCOBY. It’s basically doin’ a whole lotta fermenting in there,” he explained as he fussed in his kitchen, putting together food she hadn’t even bothered to check out yet. She sure whatever he was making was fine. “Eating the sugar, converting to the good stuff. I know it’s not the most appetizing thing to be seein’ here, though, sorry.”

Claire looked up at him when he apologized. “What? No, this is really interesting. I have some knowledge in fermentation, but it’s pretty focused to only the type that helps me in my job.”

Brad seemed surprised when he looked over at her in response to what she'd said. She wondered, distantly, if he had expected her to call it gross. People didn’t appreciate how food was made enough, if you asked her. “Oh yeah? Whatcha do for a living?”

Right. She hadn’t actually told him, had she? “I’m working over at the bakery a few blocks from here.”

There was a long pause – was he trying to think of the one she meant? – as he came over, plate in hand. All at once, she remembered she’d come here for _food_ and not to grill him on his hobby. He’d apparently been making omelets while they chatted, though he had stopped dead in his tracks right before he handed the plate over, realization dawning on his face. “Wait, you don’t mean that really fancy one?”

Claire looked just a little bit smug. She was proud of the prestige, proud of being part of that. “That’s the one, yeah.”

He was still noticeably withholding that plate of food. “You mean I’m about to feed some high-class baker something I just threw together with crap I had in my fridge?”

Claire tried valiantly not to look amused at his horror and failed miserably. “No, you’re feeding your very hungry neighbor who just _happens_ to be a baker something because you woke her up with Springsteen. Relax, I’m a not a food critic here to grade you.”

Brad seemed to study her before reluctantly holding the food out to her. She smiled prettily and took it, then let herself be led over to the couch to sit down, since the table was out for the moment. He lingered near her as she sat down, looking thoughtful.

“You wanna try one of my drinks?” he offered, though with some amount of hesitancy. “Not the ones with gunk in them, I have stuff already made left. Could make coffee too, I think I have some…somewhere? Probably?”

Her choice was between a freshly made drink and what sounded like stale (or worse) coffee. Somehow, taking her chances and trusting Brad knew what he was doing with the kombucha seemed like the safer (and better tasting) of the two.

“Give me one of your favorites, then."

He practically beamed a smile at her when she answered in a way she had a feeling he wasn’t expecting. She imagined not everyone was on board with trying _homegrown drinks_. “I got just the thing for you, Saffitz, just you wait.”

Of that she had no doubt. He hurried off to get whatever he was about to pour her and she spent the time taking a look at the food she’d been given. She’d expected something like she’d get in a deli – slap things together and fold (which would’ve been _fine_ , for the record) – but instead realized, he had made it the French style. Simple, light, fluffy – elegant, even.

Slicing a bite out of the omelet with her fork, the egg practically melted in her mouth. Her eyes slid shut as she savored the taste, exhaling a pleased sigh when she swallowed. It wasn't lost on her that had she not taken his offer for food earlier, she would have probably started her morning eating a slightly stale bagel. This was something closer to what she might get at a decent restaurant. He’d been worried she wouldn’t like this? She’d eaten two more bites by the time he came to join her, carrying a jar full of amber-colored liquid. He lifted a questioning brow, gaze shifting from her to her plate.

“You’re going to make me want to show up for breakfast every day,” she joked, catching on pretty quickly he was waiting for the verdict. “This is great, Brad. Seriously, I'm impressed.”

He made no attempt to hide how pleased he was at the compliment, holding out the jar for her to take. “You’re saying that like I wouldn’t let you in if you did. Here, this one’s wildberry tea flavored. I’ve already had some of this batch, I think you’ll like it.”

Claire wasn’t sure how he so effortlessly could take her teasing (because god, she would never impose on his kindness like that) and reply with something that immediately left her off-kilter. Ducking her head and unsure what to say (he meant it, she knew he did, and she still had no idea how to process it), she gave herself a moment to tame her likely reddened cheeks by taking a sip of the drink.

It was a ride for her tastebuds. Tangy and sweet and a little sour all at the same time, it felt a little like a battle between the three tastes to overtake the others. The spiciness of the black tea was strong too, and somehow the sum of its parts made for something that she could honestly say tasted wonderful. She stared at the jar after she swallowed, impressed.

“Wow, that’s quite a flavor journey,” she laughed, then took another sip in case he was worried she meant it in the bad way. It was still overpowering, but it _worked_.

“Hell yeah, it is,” he enthused, looking smug. “They say it’s good for you, too. Dunno anything ‘bout that, but I do know it’s good stuff. Hope it made up for waking you up early.”

He slumped into a seat next to her on the couch, leaving what she recognized was a respectful distance between them, and stretched his long legs out in front of him. Claire watched him out of the corner of her eye, still slowly sipping the drink, gaze trailing along his frame. She could feel her stomach twist in knots in ways she staunchly refused to think about. Forcing herself to look away when she recognized that, she cleared her throat.

“I think you’re in the clear for now,” she replied, as if that hadn’t been obvious. She chewed on her lip then, fingers pressing a little harder into the jar she was holding. "But you can put the music back on, if you want. I haven’t heard that album in forever.”

Though she wasn’t looking at him still, she could feel him watching her. “Yeah?”

“...Yeah. I'd like that.”

What was supposed to be a breakfast became half an afternoon relaxing and listening to music. The lack of getting anything done because of it normally would drive her crazy.

For whatever reason, that afternoon was different.

* * *

Whatever was between them inevitably became a _thing_.

Not all at once and certainly not on purpose, of course. That first time had been enjoyable and she’d found herself at ease in her strange neighbor’s apartment far more than she ever thought she might be. Then they went their separate ways, and she had assumed that while it had been a nice day, certainly, it was one she doubted would happen again. They were wildly different people, none of it seemed sustainable.

In retrospect, even then, she probably should’ve known better. She didn’t take into account them being different just meant she was being introduced to new things and vice versa, things that she never would have been exposed to if not for him. The thing about Brad was he seemed to have an uncanny ability to fit himself into a slot of what she needed that she hadn’t realized was even there, and suddenly the polite hellos of the early days of their friendship became full conversations she found herself looking forward to having. Their schedules were still almost completely opposite, so it didn’t happen as often as she’d like, but every time it made her feel a little lighter afterwards.

Their mornings hanging out together when she had a day off from work became more frequent. They moved out of his apartment eventually and spilled out onto the streets of their neighborhood. Brad knew the area like the back of his hand and utilized that knowledge to its fullest potential. The amount of hole-in-the-wall places she never would’ve given a second thought about going into was an eye-opening experience.

What added to that experience was that, more often than not, they knew him. While it was at first awkward being the odd person out, she soon came to realize the people that knew Brad tended to be a whole lot like him. It made them easy to talk to by extension in a lot of ways and they, in turn, seemed to assume the best out of her because he was dragging her around. It was...interesting, to say the least.

It all became routine in a way and Claire did love her routines. Those mornings even started the same way every time - with a text.

**Brad**

**Today** _,_ _9:15 AM_

U awake?

He’d tried to prod her earlier than usual that particular morning. Brad ought to know better than to think she’d be awake that early, but he’d at least caught her on a day she hadn’t slept in too terribly late. Not even bothering to untangle herself from her sheets, she stifled a yawn and typed a quick message back.

**Claire**

_9:45 AM_

I am now. What’s up?

Putting her volume up so she could hear when he replied, she started slowly puttering around her room to get ready for the day. If Brad was texting her, she was probably in for him being up to something that would require her to get out of her sleep clothes. That something probably required her to do something other than relax on her day off. She’d complain if she didn’t genuinely enjoy it.

It took him a little while to respond - he, too, must have assumed there was little hope of getting in touch with her before ten.

**Brad**

_9:54 AM_

Bout time

Going someplace soon. U busy?

**Claire**

_9:57 AM_

Haven’t decided in the ten minutes I’ve been awake.

**Brad**

_9:58 AM_

It’s been at least 12 actually

**Claire**

_10:00 AM_

I am just going to preemptively say no to whatever you’re about to ask me, I think.

**Brad**

_10:02 AM_

Sheesh touchy

I mean it tho

_10:03 AM_

I got a place I wanna show u

**Claire**

_10:06 AM_

It’s supposed to be gross out today, isn’t it?

**Brad**

_10:07 AM_

Just a little rain

U worried ur gonna melt Saffitz?

**Claire**

_10:08 AM_

Ha ha.

**Brad**

_10:09 AM_

;)

Come on it’ll be fun

**Claire**

_10:10 AM_

Fine. What time?

**Brad**

_10:10 AM_

Ready in 20?

**Claire**

_10:11 AM_

Yeah, meet you out in the hallway.

She’d been used to the vagueness by then – she rarely ever knew where they were going until they got there. Claire wasn’t usually one to give up that much control, but she’d hit the point where she knew he rarely steered them wrong. Still, she stared out at the darkening skies with a slight frown after she was done getting ready, opting to grab her umbrella as she left and locked up behind her. Brad was already there, mid-stretch, his long arms high above his head. He dropped them when he noticed her there, a lopsided smile lighting up his face.

“Morning, sunshine,” he teased and she scowled only a little at him. Despite the time she had to wake herself and putting herself together, she still did not have nearly enough caffeine in her just yet for his particular brand of teasing. “All set?”

“How far are we walking?” she asked, glancing again toward a nearby window at the clouds. Noting a very obvious lack of cover for the storm that was obviously coming, she asked, pointedly, “Where's your umbrella?"

“Okay, mom,” he snorted, waving off the concern. “It’ll be fine.”

It was _not_ fine. One block into their walk, the sky opened up and the downpour she had read was coming started and it started fast. She scrambled to put her umbrella up before she got soaked and then had the satisfaction of turning to see Brad looking properly miserable as the buckets of rain started dumping on his head. He said nothing, didn’t even look at her, and she realized he was going to stubbornly act like he was just fine being soaked to the bone. Claire considered letting it be and maybe throwing in a ‘I told you so’ for good measure. He certainly deserved it, though her own stubbornness gave way to her feeling sorry for him.

“Damn it, Brad,” she sighed at length, shoving the umbrella into his hand. He took it, though shot her a startled and questioning look. She rolled her eyes when he didn’t seem to catch on what she was doing. “You’re taller, commere.”

The wider brimmed umbrella was enough to barely fit the both of them if they walked nearly on top of each other, so that was exactly what she did as she drew in closer, closing the gap between them. Her arm brushing against his constantly as they continued to walk, it dawned on him what she was doing and dutifully extended the umbrella so it was over both their heads, covering them both from the brunt of it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, sheepish but grateful.

There was a lot of things Claire could have said, most of which were in some vein of scolding, but she didn’t have it in her. There was something about their sudden proximity to each other that was distracting but not unpleasant. She probably could get away with putting a little more space between them, but she made no move to because she frankly didn't _want_ to. He didn’t either, for that matter.

“Uh, don’t mention it,” she finally said when she realized she hadn’t responded at all, no bite to the words, and though she felt his gaze on her, she didn’t dare tilt her head up to meet it.

The rest of the time felt uncharacteristically quiet and she was grateful to find out it was only a few blocks worth of a walk. They approached what looked like a corner store that looked nondescript at first glance. A menu hung in the window and a quick glance gave her a hint they were going into some sort of sandwich shop, though they didn’t linger near it long enough for her to get a good look. They stopped at the door, and something immediately caught Claire’s eye.

“Uh, that’s definitely a closed sign, Brad,” she stated the obvious, pulling in closer so she stayed under the umbrella they had been sharing. The weather was somehow getting worse, the rain pelting hard into the cover above their heads. If she had just walked five blocks to a closed place in the rain, she was going to kill him.

“Good reading there, Harvard,” he deadpanned, then lifted his hand to knock loudly on the door – once, then again a few moments later, loud and insistent. “Hey, Delany, open the damn door!”

“Er, Delany?” she repeated, a little surprised at his aggressiveness. Before she got a chance to suggest they come back some other time, she heard the door unlock and then saw it swing open, 

"What part of _closed_ do you not get, Leone?" the stranger asked in a similar tone, giving him a sour look - one that dissolved into a wide grin that matched the one that grew on Brad's a few moments later.

Claire could do nothing but stare at the strange pair of them, wondering just what in he world she'd gotten herself into.


End file.
